Unclaimed Thrones
by Shakespeare's Puppet
Summary: Cameron Morgan, the rebellious princess of the Kingdom of Adalasia, is deemed unfit to rule her country. Suddenly she finds herself shipped off to Gallagher Academy, a place where rich young nobles get sent to learn the proper way to rule. While there, she learns not only etiquette, but also a secret that could tear her kingdom apart.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Unclaimed Thrones

Summary: Cameron Morgan, the rebellious princess of the Kingdom of Adalasia, is deemed unfit to rule her country. Suddenly she finds herself shipped off to Gallagher Academy, a place where rich young nobles get sent to learn the proper way to rule. While there, she learns not only etiquette, but also a secret that could tear her kingdom apart.

Rating: T for language, violence, and occasional dark theme.

Genre: Adventure/Drama

Officially Disclaimed

**AN: Hello, leitores! I know, I know, the people who want me to update my other story are probably grabbing their pitchforks. I'm sorry, okay? I was watch Sofia the First on Disney Channel with my five year old cousin today, and I got this story idea. I can't control my ADD imagination! Anyway, off to Explanation Land. One: Yes, there will be romance. Two: Cammie and Co. will not be spies, but they will become something that will still serve their country. Three: No specific time period. Four: Yes, I did steal the kingdom name from the movie Enchanted.**

**Always Here,**  
**SP**

**Current Inspiration Song: Belief (Acoustic) by Gavin DeGraw**

**Chapter One:**

Cammie held her breath, clutching the bed post in front of her. Elizabeth, or Liz, was lacing up her corset so tightly she saw spots. Tonight was the night of the Thanksgiving Ball, celebrating the anniversary of the day the Great War ended. Being, the princess, Cammie was forced to attend.

As a result of this damned ball, Cammie was currently in her quarters, being 'made presentable,' as Macey said. Cammie refused to have maids, deeming them unnecessary. As a result, Macey, Liz, and Bex, her three best friends, helped her get ready for tonight. On an average day, she dresses herself, but she can't lace up the corsets or put on the endless layers of fabric on her own. She also didn't know a single thing about how to pin her hair up or how to match jewelry with dresses. It was all a bit overwhelming to her.

So now, Cammie was being put into yet another cursed gown. Liz finally finished lacing her corset, and now Bex was approaching her with the crinoline designed to make the skirt even more voluptuous. She frowned, but obeyed when she saw the murderous look on Bex's face, as if daring her to argue. She held her arms above her head and waited as the heavy, stiff under skirt settled around her hips. Macey, ready to get into action, quickly fastened the stays and slipped my dress over her head.

She knew this was her favorite dress. It was simple, something that wouldn't draw attention to her. It was a beautiful dark red, and the bodice was embroidered with golden wildflowers and intricate little leaves. As it settled around her, she glanced up into the mirror, ready to see the finished product. Her eyes widened a bit.

This was not Cammie, the girl who wears mens trousers and shirts. She then shook herself. She wasn't Cammie. Not tonight. Tonight, she was Princess Cameron Anne Morgan, the young woman expected to talk like a lady, sit up straight, chew with her mouth closed, and accept a throne she didn't want. She wasn't allowed to work in the kitchen, hunt with the other young knights, or use her sword like a man. She wasn't supposed to say anything of her adventures tonight; tonight she was supposed to talk of her studies with her tutor, Lady Buckingham, or her boring foreign meetings she had to sit through with her mother.

Smiling sadly, she turned around to face some of the people she cared about most. Macey, Bex, and Liz were all smiling, and when Cammie went to hug them, they put their arms around her tightly. They quickly slipped into their own dresses and pinned up their hair similarly to Cammie's; a loose cloud of curls, seemingly unsteady and weightless, though Cammie knew the hairstyles were as secure as the royal vault.

"One more thing and you're perfect," Liz said kindly, reaching for a box set on Cammie's bed. She opened it a pulled out her royal circlet, a required headpiece for all Cammie's events.

It was a beautiful thing. It was a silver circle of swirls, intricately connected in complicated patterns. It was made to look like a circlet of laurels, leaves and flowers woven between the silvers swirls, made out of purple amethyst, resembling the kingdom itself, with it's breathtaking forests and purple and silver national colors. It was a smaller, less grand version of Cammie's mother's circlet, and the one piece of royalty Cammie was happy to wear.

They all walked out of the room together, heading toward the Grand Ballroom, where dinner and the ball would be held. Her three best friends walked in before her; they knew Cammie would have to be introduced separately. Nervously, Cammie smoothed non-existent lint off of her skirt and carelessly brushed loose strands of hair away from her face. Her mother, Queen Rachel, would expect nothing less than perfection, and would be very disappointed if she walked in looking flustered.

Taking a deep breath, she gestured at the page to announce her arrival.

**So, good introduction? Also, for the fashion in this story, imagine an almost 17th Century French, Milady De Winter sort of style, but not quite as extravagant. I hope I can explain it without making it seem like I'm just listing her outfits, but it might be hard. I tried to find pictures, but nothing looked like what I wanted it to. **

**I admit that this chapter was a bit pointless, but I wanted to introduce Cammie's life, torn between the urge to fight and the requirement of being a princess, which will ultimately end up sending her off to the academy.**

**This Chapter's Question: What's your favorite type of accent (British, Australian, Scottish, etc.)? I'm trying to get an image in my head of what I want the characters to sound like. I know, minor detail, but I like to create an image of my characters in my head that appeals to all of the senses, then portray that to the audience.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, my leitores! By the way, leitores is Portuguese for readers.**

**Officially Disclaimed**

**Current Inspiration Song: Explosions by Ellie Goulding**

**Chapter Two:**

Cammie heard the trumpets start blowing, and sighed at the extravagance. She was never allowed to just _walk _into a room. _No, _she _had _to be announce with a trumpet fanfare and a page announcing her full title to the heavens.

"Lords and Ladies, I present Princess Cameron Anne Morgan, Heir to the Adalasian Throne, her Royal Highness Rachel Maria Carmela Morgan's Biological Daughter, and an honored hostess of this ball!" The page announced, his small body stepping down from the stool he was standing on. He almost fell, tripping on his purple and silver palace livery. Cammie fought the the urge to reach out and steady him. _No, _she thought to herself. _You can't help servants, talk to servants, laugh with servants, even think about servants. Not now, not while you play the princess._

She stepped through the large mahogany doors with a bright smile on her face. The room was roaring with applause, and her mother was smiling, looking proud on her throne at the back of the room. Cammie's smile almost faltered at the sight of the thrones. It was there, her father's throne, at every ball, every dinner, every foreign meeting. It sat there, next to her mother's, mocking her, as if her father was ever going to come back. He wasn't going to come back. He was murdered by an assassin during the Great War. It was quick, silent, so fast that Cammie's mother didn't even wake, though she was sleeping right next to him.

The next morning, the queen's agonized and fearful scream woke the entire palace.

Walking with even steps toward her mother, she completed the required curtsy with ease. Her mother nodded back at her, the very image of poise and serenity. That was the queen's job. She was the figure head of a nation; she had to resemble peace and calm. She resembled anything else, and the entire country would be seen that way too.

All of these nobles that surrounded them had no idea of what things were really like for the queen and Cammie. They had no idea of Cammie's training, of her escapades and adventures as a spy or an assassin. They didn't know that Cammie acted like a servant, always dressing herself, cooking most of her own food, and doing her own laundry. They had no idea of the late nights spent talking and laughing on the rare days Cammie and her mother had nothing to do. They seemed like the perfect pair; the stately queen and the graceful princess. In the eyes of the court, they could do nothing wrong.

It disgusted Cammie.

If she so much as spilled a drop of tea on her dress, the entire palace would know about it within the hour. If Cammie's mother let loose a small laugh in a meeting, the nobles would be gossiping about it by the end of the day. It didn't matter that they themselves did worse on a daily basis. No, they were the royal family; therefor they were like statues, no real feelings and no human actions.

Pushing her prohibited thoughts away, she sat down in her smaller throne placed between her mother's and her empty father's. Her mother rose and began to speak.

"Let the celebration begin!" She said, her smooth voice echoing throughout the chattering room. At the queen's word, servants, dressed in their formal livery, streamed through the various servant doors leading from the kitchen, platters of dishes and drinks held above their heads. They split off towards varying tables to serve their guests. A young girl, no more than twelve, walked up to serve Cammie a glass of wine. She kept her head down, and her hands were shaking as she picked up the glass to pour the drink, but Cammie saw the quick glances she made at Cammie. She smiled, and, after a quick glance to make sure her mother wasn't watching, she reached out and steadied the girl's hand. The girl glanced up at her, her face completely shocked. Cammie smiled, then quickly whispered her thanks to the girl. She blushed and did a small curtsy, before hurrying off, presumably to tell her friends that the princess talked to her. Sure enough, she tapped a boy her own age that was just getting ready to enter the kitchen on the shoulder. Cammie let a small laugh escape her mouth. Her mother raised an eyebrow at her. Cammie shook her head, still smiling, and looked in the other direction. Her smile faded.

Sitting at a table with a few other boys his own age, was Lord Zachary Goode. He was smirking at her, and Cammie knew immediately that he had seen the entire interaction between her and the servant girl. She regarded him coolly, hiding her inner panic. If he said one word, the entire court would be gossiping about her by tomorrow. She would have to face her mother's disappointment, the court's rumors, and the servant girl would most likely be fired. She knew that the cook, a kind, motherly woman, would never fire the poor girl, but Cammie knew of a few sour pages that would easily do it if they heard. Taking a breath through her nose, Cammie lifted her chin up and raised an eyebrow at Lord Goode. He smirked a little more before turning back to his conversation. Studying his table for a moment, he knew he hadn't told.

**Soooo? I know the story really hasn't gotten anywhere, but I promise it will. I just have to get this ball over with, something I now regret even writing about. Hopefully, within the next few chapters, Cammie will end up at the academy. **

**This Chapter's Question: Do you like Cammie's personality? Why or why not?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Maybe this story will get somewhere this chapter, leitores. Maybe *sigh*.**

**Officially Disclaimed**

**Current Inspiration Song: The Dance by Charlotte Martin**

**Chapter Three:**

After the evening meal was served, every male in the room stood up, as if compelled by some unspoken command. Cammie knew what was going to happen next.

Dancing. Joy.

Staring dejectedly at her hands, she listened as the string quartet began to play a waltz. She felt her mother's presence leave, whisked away by some older lord looking for a chance to marry the queen. She knew her mother would never allow it. Her father never truly left her mother. Another man would never replace him in Cammie's mother's eyes, or her heart.

Looking up from her forlorn position, she was struck out her musings. Zachary Goode was walking up to her, that same smirk plastered on his face. His walk was confident, and Cammie knew he was going to ask her to dance. Waiting for him to arrive at her table, Cammie wiped her hands off on her skirts. She knew it proper manners to never take a man's hand while dancing with sweaty palms. Lady Dabney, her etiquette teacher, had drilled that into her head.

"May I have this dance, Princess?" Zachary asked. His voice was deep; deeper than she had expected. He held out a hand to her, one slightly calloused from reins of horses and hilts of swords. Cammie knew he would find hers the same way.

"I'd be delighted to, Lord Zachary," Cammie said, curtseying. Zachary bowed back to her. She placed her hand in his as he led her to the dance floor.

He quickly placed one hand on the small of her back, the other clasped in her own. She placed her hand on his shoulder. Everything about this dance was routine. He would lead her into simple box steps, before they would start spinning in a circle with the other couples. Then they would resume box stepping, before repeating the cycle. It left lots of room for talking, which was why she was sure he had asked her to dance.

"I saw what you did for that little girl," Zachary whispered, his head bent towards her ear. She looked up and met his piercingly green eyes. While thinking of an answer, she took a moment to study him. With messy, yet gorgeous brown hair, tan skin, and viridian, almond shaped eyes, he was certainly not ugly. No he was quite handsome. He had no shortage of admirers at court, but Cammie was not one of them. She had seen his arrogance, his cockiness that was made him the figure head of stereotypical court personalities.

**"**Did you now?" Cammie's voice was innocent. She couldn't give anything away. Zachary said nothing, simply smirked and led her into another spin around the dance floor.

They had been waltzing for a while, and they were silent. Cammie could feel his infuriating smirk boring into the top of her head, but she kept her gaze fixedly on the buttons in his vest. He was the perfect partner, keeping the proper three inches of space between us, spinning, dipping, box-stepping, and lifting at all the right queues in the music. His hands stayed in place, they didn't try to roam a bit to low in certain areas like other partners she'd had. At the end of the song, he bowed formally, and exited the dance floor towards his table, where his friends were laughing and talking. He was the perfect gentleman.

She doubted anyone saw the knowing wink he sent in her direction.

She made her way back towards her throne, where her mother was waiting for her. Sitting down, her mother turned to her.

"Who was that?" Cammie's mother inquired, raising an eyebrow and trying to not look excited.

"That was Lord Zachary Goode, mother," Cammie sighed. Here came the questions.

"Was he handsome? Did you like him? Is he a gentleman?" Her mother was practically bouncing in her seat by now.

"He was infuriating, mother. He was infuriating, incredibly handsome, confident, and a complete gentlemanly bastard," She said, sinking down in her seat. Her mother slapped her arm, and she immediately sat up straight again.

"Cameron! _Language!"_ Her mother gasped, though Cammie could see the amusement in her eyes. She smiled, and her mother couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape her mouth.

The ball was soon over, and Cammie left the room with a sigh after waving, curtseying, and being kissed on the hand goodbye by every _single _attendee at this damn ball. She wanted to _sleep._

She arrived in her room and tiredly leaned against the thick wooden door. She yanked the pins out of her hair impatiently, and her dirty blonde curls fell around her shoulders. They now resembled a bird's nest. Cammie sighed, then ran a comb through them carelessly. She tiredly pulled her dress over her head, then reached behind her and pulled a string, causing her dastardly crinoline to fall at her feet. She pulled her corset off, leaving her in just a shift and her circlet. She took the head piece off gingerly before placing it in the velvet box on her rarely used vanity. Laying down, she fell into a restless sleep of war and her dead father.

**AN: It didn't get anywhere -_- By the way, the last sentence is a bit of foreshadowing. Just saying.**

**This Chapter's Question: Did I get the the dancing right? Etiquette wise, that is. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I really like where this story is going, leitores!**

**Officially Disclaimed**

**CIS (Current Inspiration Song): Go by Delilah**

**Chapter Four:**

Cammie sat at the counter next to the cook, a kind faced, motherly woman named Eleanor. She was peeling apples for the cook to puree into applesauce, eating the skin as she went. Eleanor was laughing at her, occasionally hitting her playfully on the head with her wooden spoon as she stirred the onion stew for tonight's meal. Eleanor tapped her on the shoulder.

"Taste," she ordered holding out a ladle full of the stew she had been making. Cammie obediently put the spoon in her mouth. Melting, she sat down in her chair and made a moaning sound. Eleanor laughed.

"Oh my Lord, that's _heavenly,"_ Cammie said, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. She stood up from her chair, her eyes still closed, and knocked into the counter she was peeling on. As her sword connected with the wood, a dull thud rattled through the room. One of the peeled apples went rolling towards Eleanor's feet. Cammie opened her eyes.

"Take that sword off before you kill my apples, Princess," Eleanor said, hitting her with the spoon again. Cammie laughed and unbuckled her sheath before placing it in a corner of the room.

"And Eleanor, how many times have I told you to call me Cammie? Princess makes me sound uptight and nasty," Cammie said, walking back over to her apple station.

"Of course, _Cammie._ Now peel apples before you murder any more of them," Eleanor said, going back to her soup and pulling her bread out of her oven. Cammie obediently sat down and started peeling apples. She irritatedly pulled her shirt away from her back.

She was out with the battle master all morning, practicing swordsmanship, archery, and hand to hand combat. She didn't feel the need to draw a bath, so came here to help in the kitchen. Now, with her already sweaty body, she was regretting that decision, what with the fifteen million ovens in the stuffy room. As a consequence, she was sitting peeling apples, sweating like a pig and stuck with a quiver on her back, a knife on her thigh, and a sword in her belt. She felt like a man. She certainly dressed like one. With her tight trousers tucked into her boots, white shirt, and pulled up hair, she looked like a teenage boy at first glance. The only thing that separated her from a male was her worn, brown, leather under-bust corset, which she wore on top of her shirt to appease her mother. It laced up in the front, thankfully. Behind her, a page cleared their throat. She turned around.

"Princess, Your Royal Queen requests your presence in her study immediately," he said in a stuck up voice, his short body seemingly uptight. She sighed. She wouldn't have time to change, which meant that her mother would be horrified by what she saw. She was sweaty, her hair was a mess of a bun, held only together by a pencil, and she had almost all of her weapons on her.

Standing up, she waved goodbye to Eleanor, who playfully tossed an apple skin at her. Smiling, Cammie caught in her mouth before chewing and swallowing it. She followed the page to her mother's study, where she waved the page away and knocked on the door.

"Come in," her mother's voice echoed through the wood. She sounded irritated and weary.

Hesitantly, she opened the door, standing on the threshold. Her mother looked up at her, sighed, and shook her head in tired amusement. She motioned for Cammie to sit down, dropping her head into her hands.

"I have something to tell you, Cammie," she said, her head lifting from it's earlier position. Cammie saw the bags under her eyes and, for the first time, her mother looked old.

"I'm sending you off," she continued looking away. Cammie sat back in her chair, stunned. Where on _Earth _would her mother send her?

"I've put up with your tendencies for a while now. It was fine when you were younger; you didn't know any better. Now, you haven't outgrown your ways. It is not proper for a princess to sword fight. You should wear dresses, not these foolish mens clothing you seem so set on continuing to outfit yourself in. You shouldn't work in the kitchens or fraternize with the servants. It isn't _allowed,_" her mother said. Cammie looked away, fighting the urge to leave. She didn't want to hear her mother talk about how abnormal she was. Right now, Cammie knew her mother was focusing more on her queenly duties more than her motherly duties. It frustrated Cammie. She got that her mother was the queen, but shouldn't a mother always love and support their daughter, not send them away because they're _abnormal_?

"I've decided to send you to Gallagher Academy," her mother finished, wincing as she waited for Cammie to explode. Her mouth dropped open. Her mother was sending her to _etiquette school_? The very place she said she wouldn't have to go because she hired at home tutors? The place where all the snobby young nobles go to learn how to dance and eat like proper court representatives? The place Cammie thought was the equivalent of Hell?

"But, mother! You said-" Cammie's mother cut her off.

"I know what I said Cameron. I said that because I thought these... _abnormalities _wouldn't be a problem as you got older. I see that they have, and now you will be attending."

"But-"

"No buts, Cameron. You're going; it's final. You leave immediately."

**AN: I'm so excited! This story actually became a story with a plot! It went somewhere!**

**This Chapter's Question: I think Cammie should continue to retain some of her boyish tendencies while at the Academy. What do you think?**


End file.
